


By Slow Prudence to Make Mild

by je_t_oublie



Series: Tis Not Too Late [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Garak POV, M/M, Post Canon Cardassia, Rebuilding, a mention of botany, classical allusions (to a lesser degree), references to a past poisoning by berries non lethally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 14:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16789081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/je_t_oublie/pseuds/je_t_oublie
Summary: Julian Bashir begins to plant physical roots in the land of Cardassia. Garak is just enjoying the view.





	By Slow Prudence to Make Mild

**Author's Note:**

> "Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil  
> This labour, by slow prudence to make mild  
> A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees  
> Subdue them to the useful and the good."  
> Alfred Lord Tennyson, Ulysses.

Julian had stripped down to a singlet, sweat beading under his arms and darkening the fabric at the small of his back, a view Garak was enjoying immensely from his perch leaning against the back of his shed. The dust had calmed since his arrival, and Julian had announced his intention to start building on what would have been the plot behind Tain’s property, only a short distance from Garak but pleading the lack of space in his shed for his research notes on Cardassia. As if he weren’t aware of Bashir's unnatural stillness, the coiled tension behind him each time he woke trembling, heartbeat drowning out the soft susurration he had grown accustomed to from his roommate, and the barely veiled guilt the man was almost tangibly exuding from taking up Garak's precious space. 

The rubble, chunks of stone collected from uninhabited properties around them, had carefully been sorted into piles of similarly shaped pieces that he was picking from to coat in his makeshift mortar and wedge together, using unpleasant smelling clay he had dragged to the site in a battered but usable metal chest he had found while searching for tools. Garak had known this, of course, before Julian had returned to their shed for the night, excited about the discovery. Cardassia was still a dangerous place, albeit for different reasons, and he doubted a Federation upbringing in polished cities would prepare anyone for how a gentle shift of dirt underfoot could lead to an abrupt drop. It wouldn’t hurt the good doctor to think he was actually alone when exploring, and Garak did so enjoy watching him when he wasn’t aware of it, almost imperceptible moments of speed and strength that should not have been possible in such a wiry form. 

Garak's eyes sharpened back into focus as the rhythmic movements of the stone placement stopped, and Julian sat back into his heels, one arm keeping him steady and the other held carefully away, the makeshift mortar thick on his fingers. It was still a low wall, built to create a right angle with what remained of the house that had once stood there and scraggly but determined vines were retaking the ground they had lost to a population uncaring of their environmental impact. But now the soil uncovered by the Fire sent up new shoots in its determination to prove it’s strength over the remaining people. He did hope Julian would let it become an organic part of whatever he was building. It would be pleasant to watch it retake the structure once Julian had come to terms with his losses and realised Cardassia was not the place for a good man like him, and Garak not who he was looking for. But there was time before that happened, and Garak had no qualms about taking advantage of his presence for what time he did have. 

He closed the short distance between them, and Julian tipped his head up to smile, cheeks flushed and hair curling with perspiration. Really, humans and their waste of precious resources simply to cool themselves down. 

“Building Rome a larger endeavour than first you thought?” 

Julian huffed out a laugh and tilted towards the shadow he was casting. “Rome is one thing, Garak, but I would happy enough to have the brick Augustus found it in and not bother with the marble.” 

“The pillars did seem a fragile choice.” Slim and straight and far too easily damaged in the tumultuous times he had been regaled with while he stitched voluminous white togas that would only see the inside of holosuites. 

“Great swathes of Rome are still around, actually.” 

Julian pushed to his feet, arms sketching out large shapes – hills? – before raising them up and behind him in a stretch, spine popping in a way that sounded agonising but Garak only heard relief in the quiet sigh beside him. He followed the curve of the neck downwards, collarbones pushed forward above the neckline of the undershirt, dark and clinging in places by sweat. His chest was as flushed as his cheeks from the exertion of building and it wasn’t decorative by any means, uneven dots of clay evidence of manual labour, but Garak could appreciate the simplicity of allowing a clear definition of his shape, the slight curve inwards from his ribs. He had intended only a quick check for burns on the fragile skin but by the time he had made it back up to the newly freckled cheeks, the mouth was curved and eyes crinkled. Ah, so that had been a beat too long, but still a chance to make it look intentional. He allowed his eyes to travel back down leisurely. 

“Cardassia is honoured to have a doctor making architectural decisions that will last thousands of years.” And that made the smile softer, the wry affection threaded through his tone serving to distract from the deeper kind that he had little doubt his friend had not noticed. That had always been the most common admonishment he had received, and every warning of sentiment being the greatest weakness he had given to Bashir in the past serving as a timely reminder to himself. 

The “Garak” was fond, and the shoulder bumping against his careful not to jostle. Garak adjusted his feet slightly further apart for stability anyway, and the shoulder stayed pressed against his as they looked out. Cardassian architecture would not be what it had once been, but- 

“Tell me, doctor, is there something familiar in the combination of the vegetation and pillars?” 

There was a brush of hair against his cheek, and a considering hum. 

“Old pictures of Rome and grape vines?” 

“I would avoid supplying those berries to people you wish to see again.” Particularly unpleasant, if he remembered. The leaves would make do for a slightly bitter tea, but he had a run in with the fruit itself as a child. The amount of charcoal he had been fed after was almost as bad as the hiding he later received. 

“Ah. Not the terra-formed Delta Diaskori?” 

“What very Federation answers. There are many planets not yet claimed by them.”

“Thank you, Garak, I could never have guessed that without your superior knowledge. “ 

Garak concealed the impulse to smile, the feeling examined, marvelled at and then discarded. The amusement at Julian’s sarcasm could be tucked away though, to be enjoyed later. 

“I am always pleased to educate.” 

There was a huff, and a brief increase of pressure before the shoulder left his. 

“You can educate me in wall building when the moons rise later, but I need water.” 

Water, and rest. This planet was not built for such creatures as Julian Bashir. He trailed behind the doctor, the few long paces between where Tolan’s shed ended and Julian’s wall began. He could at least ensure that he would still be well for when he left, and that meant watching that the good doctor was taking care of himself when he said he was - just as the doctor had once done for him. 

“Well doctor, if I have learnt anything from my years as a tailor, it is that a garment that must be built around a strong seam. Otherwise it will tear and fray in the first wash.” Like those without a watcher in Cadassia.

**Author's Note:**

> "I found Rome built of sun-dried bricks; I leave her clothed in marble." Augustus Caesar (according to Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars: Augustus, 28. (A classicist's note: take Suetonius' Lives etc with a pinch of salt. He was writing with definite bias and agenda.))
> 
> While plants can be both toxic and nontoxic, it's usually the leaves that are toxic and the fruit not. That has been flipped here.  
> The planet name Diaskori is a slight corruption of Dioskouroi - more commonly known by the Latin Gemini, or twins. 
> 
> The utter stillness after I selected all in the Word document and accidentally pressed paste instead of copy. I have never been so unhappy to see two characters arguing about the Iliad as I was in that moment. 
> 
> My apologies for any typos, or things that don't quite gel - currently afflicted with a cold, and though a very sweet friend offered once to beta, she also admitted to knowing nothing of DS9.


End file.
